


Yuri is not, repeat, NOT a Dog Person.

by faeryn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adventures with Makka and Potya, Dogsitting, Fluff, M/M, T+ just for language really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn
Summary: Yuri gets roped into dogsitting Makkachin for Victor. (Mostly Otabek agreed to it against his wishes.)It isn't really allthatbad.





	Yuri is not, repeat, NOT a Dog Person.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izilen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izilen/gifts).



> I was asked for an Otabek & Yuri dogsitting Makkachin fic, and thus I shall deliver!
> 
> I know right! Two fics in one day! WOW! AMAZING! Enjoy :P

“ _Pleeeeeease_ , Yura?” Victor was staring at him with that unbearably wet face again, and Yuri rolled his eyes in contempt.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Vitya, why do you want _me_ to watch your dumb dog anyway? Don’t you have, like, _dog people_ friends?”

Victor was standing in his doorway looking like someone had just robbed him or something, Makkachin sitting obediently at his feet while he held her leash in his hands like that Oliver kid with his gruel bowl begging for more. Potya was stalking the room in the background, swishing her tail in a way that could mean anything from “don’t you fucking dare, human,” to “excellent, a new fluffy toy.”

“You’re the only person Makka knows really well! I don’t want to trust her with just _anyone_!” Victor seemed to really want Yuri to punch him in his supremely punchable face.

“Well who takes her when we’re all at competitions?” Yuri frowned, loudly.

“Ah, well there’s this lovely woman who lives down the hall who is usually quite happy to take her but her daughter has been quite unwell as of late and -” Yuri held up a hand to stem the tide of babble. He knew that was a standard Victor tactic, and one that - regretfully - worked on him all too often, but he wasn’t going to just give in that easily this time.

“Just let her stay, Yura, she won’t be a hassle. I’ll walk her, all you have to do it make sure Potya doesn’t eat her,” Otabek padded up behind him and curled his arms around the slender boy, resting his chin on his shoulder.

As if sensing this might be the turning point, Makkachin gave a small happy bark and dialed the puppydog eyes up to 11. Not that it would matter, Yuri would never deny Beka anything.

“ _Fine_ ,” he held out his hand for the leash, “but if she shits on the floor or chews _anything_ you’re paying for it, and god help you if she bothers Potya, like, _at all_.”

The last part of his sentence was drowned out by the unholy noise that came from what Yuri assumed was Victor’s mouth, but was now wondering if perhaps the man had been possessed by some kind of demonic entity that was trying to imitate the most annoying sound on the planet in a diabolical plan to get Yuri’s brain to exit his skull via dribbling out of his ears.

“Just shut up and get her crap in here already,” he growled, handing the leash to Otabek and stalking off into the apartment mostly to get away from the _sound_.

 

Having Makkachin around wasn’t, actually, that big of a deal. Okay, it was hard to get her to understand that the bed was for _Potya_ , not for stinky dogs, but once they managed to convince her to sleep on the dog bed Victor had left for her on the floor _next_ to the bed, things seemed to settle down fairly well. Potya looked down at the poodle from her place at the foot of the bed with an air of contempt, as if making the point that _she_ was the queen in this household, and Makkachin would never get a look in while she was around. And she intended to be around for a very,  _very_ long time.

For her part, Makka didn’t seem to care about the cat at all. Once they’d done the obligatory sniffing of one another she pretty much ignored Potya. Which seemed to be both exactly what the feline wanted, _and_ completely unacceptable. Potya spent a great deal of time stalking around the apartment actively ignoring Makkachin, until Makkachin ceased watching her do so. At which point, she would begin batting around the tennis ball Victor had left for her, or dragging the knotted rope into her cat tree - where she would sit with it proudly, but not actually play with it at all. Yuri even managed to trip over the large rubber bone after Potya had gotten it half under the couch before getting bored.

“Fucking _seriously?_ ” Yuri waved his arms at Potya, who fixed him with a death glare before stalking off to curl up contemptuously in Makkachin’s dog bed, since she wasn’t currently using it. Makka just lay down on the floor by the couch and rested her head on the cushion beside Otabek’s knee. She’d learned fairly quickly that of the two humans in the apartment, this one was happy to use one hand to pet her as long as she didn’t wriggle around a lot. Yuri, on the other hand, tended to shoo her away, so she stuck to the nice human.

Walks ended up not being completely horrible, too. At first Yuri had refused to go with Otabek even as far as the park to throw the ball around. Makka had a decent amount of energy, but she was still a fairly old dog so taking her on their morning jog was out of the question. That was fine for Victor and Katsudon, Yuri supposed, since they were old men anyway and probably enjoyed a slower pace and shorter track, but there was no way he was giving up _his_ time for some stupid mutt. If he had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to exercise he was doing it _properly_ dammit. Never mind that this meant Otabek getting up even earlier so he could walk Makkachin before they jogged together. Beka knew what he was signing up for when he said he’d walk her. That was his problem, not Yuri’s. Yuri absolutely did _not_ feel guilty about it. And he definitely didn’t throw a pillow at Potya when she fixed him with a smug look after the third day of Otabek’s early rise.

Okay, maybe he did feel a little bad, so on the fourth day - with a lot of grumbling and several cups of coffee - he joined Otabek in a brisk walk to the local dog park and ran through his pre-jog stretches while Beka threw the ball. Makkachin was happy to run full tilt for about thirty minutes before becoming too tired, and Yuri actually found the weird curved ball throwing device Victor had left them quite fun to use. It became a competition between the two of them to see who could throw the ball the furthest before Makka got worn out, though he wasn’t entirely sure that Otabek wasn’t letting him win.

Even Potya warmed up to the poodle, eventually. On the sixth day Otabek and Yuri returned from the rink to find the two of them curled up on the couch snoozing away, Potya settled in a tight circle on the fluffy expanse of Makkachin’s back. She didn’t even move when they door swung shut behind them, except to look up at Yuri with half-open eyes daring him to say a damn word.

“Traitor cat,” he grumbled, stalking off to shower, but even he had to admit it was pretty fucking cute.

 

That wasn’t to say that Makkachin’s stay was entirely without its dramas, however. And Victor was _absolutely_ paying for the pair of leopard print Tabitha Simmons ankle boots that Yuri had spent the last six weeks breaking in after she got into the trash and threw up leftover pirozhki in them. She whined _constantly_ about the most _ridiculous_ things. Cat steals her toy? Fine. Yuri walks past her without acknowledging her existence? The _world_ is _ending_.

“This dog is Victor in animal form,” Yuri noted wryly after he’d been guilt-tripped into petting her for twenty minutes, “she’s the neediest thing I’ve ever seen, after him.”

“They do say animals reflect their owners,” Otabek agreed, and Yuri almost missed the pointed look he levelled at Potya, who was currently regarding them with the Level 100 Stare of Zero Fucks Given.

“Yeah… Hey!” Yuri lunged at Otabek and a short scuffle ensued, which resulted in Yuri being pinned to the floor in front of the couch while Otabek nuzzled at his throat. They were well on their way to some heavy petting that did _not_ involve a furry creature when Makkachin decided that right now would be the perfect moment to shove her big stupid head in Otabek’s face and start licking him.

“Fucking… that’s _it!_ You are not coming near me again ‘till you wash your face, gross creature, licks her own ass,” Yuri growled, shoving Otabek away and throwing himself onto the couch in a mood.

“Potya licks your face all the time,” Otabek pointed out on his way to grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

“That’s different!” Yuri yelled so Beka could hear him. “Potya doesn’t fucking _slobber_.”

“I have seen her drool on several separate occasions,” Otabek was trying to look stern, but it was hard when he was scrubbing his face with a flannel, “she has literally left patches of dribble on your shirts. You think it’s _cute_.”

“She doesn’t drool on my _face_ Beka!”

“That you know of,” Otabek winked, “and she also licks her own butt. _And_ I’ve seen her eat her own barf when she pukes up her food after eating too fast.”

Yuri pulled a sour face but couldn’t actually deny Otabek any of those points.

“Fine, whatever. Dogs are still gross.”

Otabek barked a laugh, then a thought occurred to him and a wicked grin crossed his face.

“Does this mean that you don’t want me to kiss you after I’ve liked _your_ butt?”

“That’s different!” Yuri yelled, red-faced with embarrassment and glancing at the poodle as if Makkachin was going to spill all their dirty secrets to her master when she returned home.

“Is it because it’s not my own butt? What about if Makkachin licked _Potya’s_ butt?”

“Oh my _god_ Beka, you’re the actual worst…” Yuri threw his arm up over his face and sighed heavily.

“And yet, somehow, you love me anyway, and still kiss me after I’ve licked your-” the face full of couch cushion prevented Otabek from finishing his sentence, but the point was still made.

 

After ten days away Victor finally,  _finally_ returned home to pick up Makkachin. Yuri nearly lost his lunch at the face he made when he opened the door and Makka bounded towards him, barrelling into him and knocking him off his feet in her sheer delight at seeing her master again.

“Did she behave?” Victor finally managed to ask after Makkachin was done licking every part of his face that she could reach.

“She wasn’t completely awful,” Yuri conceded airily, “but you still owe me an 82,000 ruble pair of Tabitha Simmons boots that she puked all over.”

“Ha haaa you’re so funny Yurio!” Victor laughed, until he saw Yuri giving him the Level 100 Stare of I’m Fucking Serious. After which, he just sighed loudly and nodded. This was definitely more expensive than just getting a sitter, that was for damn sure.

“She can… you know… stay again, if she needs to.”

They were done gathering all of Makkachin’s belongings that Potya had been hiding all over the apartment, mostly in the little house on her cat tree, and Victor was about to take her home, but Yuri’s sheepish offering gave him a moment’s pause.

“I mean, she wasn’t the _worst_ house guest, barring the ruined shoes. I guess it would be okay to be your backup dogsitter. Once in a while.”

Victor’s eyes grew wide and watery and Yuri backed away hastily, shaking his head and holding out his hands to fend off an overly enthusiastic and likely very _damp_ hug.

“Just as a backup!”

“Yurioooooo,” Victor tackled him to the ground and hugged him until his bones creaked anyway. Otabek sniggered and took photos, refusing to help until it looked like Yuri was actually going to get mad.

“I knew you’d love her eventually,” he smirked later, and Yuri threw another couch cushion at him.

**Author's Note:**

> [These are the boots Makka barfed on.](https://www.farfetch.com/ru/shopping/women/tabitha-simmons-dash-75-item-13079589.aspx?storeid=9359) Yep. Them sure are some expensive fuckin' boots.
> 
>  
> 
> All the cat behaviour in this fic is taken directly from my own little colony. Mostly Chime. She is very good at both the puking-and-eating-her-own-puke thing, and the Level 100 Stare of Zero Fucks Given. Usually simultaneously. (Meera hides things, though admittedly that's mostly my hair ties, and at least partially just because she accidentally bats them underneath something and then yells at me until I find it for her...) 
> 
> Come say hi on [my fandom blog](http://faeryn.tumblr.com) or my significantly less active [writing blog](http://faerynfics.tumblr.com) if you like.


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